Can't Look Back
by wheresmydauntlesscake
Summary: There's nothing left for her, she's chasing a better life, a better family, and a better world. Nothing was going to stop her, except maybe a 17 year-old pop star with a goofy grin and shaggy hair. Maybe he's enough to stop her in her tracks and quit running the reality of her mother's death and her dad's drunk bitterness. Hardcore Percabeth, softcore liper or maybe jasper.


**A/N: Hey guys! So this is my first story and it's actually based off another fanfic by horse-crazy girl13 called** _ **In My Shoes,**_ **which I absolutely loved, but unfortunately it hasn't been updated in a year, so I wrote my own inspired by hers. I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Also I don't own PJO or any of it's characters, Rick Riordan does.**

* * *

 **Annabeth**

Running was the only thing I knew how to do anymore, ever since Mom died at least. The only thing that was different this time was that I wasn't going back. I finally made up my mind, no coming back when I was already a half hour out of the city, no more chickening out and ending up just staying at Thalia's or something. I was leaving. No turning back.

 _Okay, Annabeth you got your clothes loaded, your blankets and sleeping materials, toiletries and such. Periods still happen, even on the run, so stock up on the tampons,_ I thought to myself. I made a mental note to get all the period supplies after I loaded the huge boxes of food into my truck, and I really mean _huge_. I caught a glimpse of myself on the way out of my room with my straight brown hair flowing down and my hazel eyes piercing. I turned and looked at all the trinkets and pictures and sentimental things I was leaving behind. I quickly grabbed a couple pictures and headed out.

As I got on the freeway I thought about my dad, he wouldn't be home for another 4 hours, who knows where I'd be by then. I didn't care as long as it wasn't San Francisco. I was done getting in fights and dealing with his drunk angry fits and hearing him talk about mom. I thought about the last words I'd heard him say before I slammed my door and left the drunk in the kitchen,

" _You're being a selfish bitch, Annabeth! Does my happiness mean nothing to you?" He shouted at me_

" _Of course it does! I just-" I couldn't complete the thought, the tears were coming too fast. I ran to my room and slammed the door. My knees gave out and I fell to the floor. How could this be the way he copes with her death? Sleeping around with girls from a sleazy bar?_

I nearly screamed thinking back on the memory. I turned up the music to try to drown out my restless thoughts. An old Percy Jackson song came on the radio and it made me relax, let all the shit out and just breath and sing along.

 _I've been feeling foolish_

 _You should try it_

 _She came and substituted_

 _The peace and quiet for_

 _Acrobatic blood flow_

 _Concertina cheating heart beat_

 _Rapid fire_

 _She's thunderstorms_

 _Lying on her front_

 _Up against the wall_

 _She's thunderstorms_

Percy Jackson was a one of the only pop stars I liked. He felt more real and grounded, and his sound was different. Like an indie kid who finally made it big and quit playing gigs at the local teen hangout. Of course, I wasn't obsessed with him like most of the people at my school. Everyone either wanted him as a friend or a fuck. For Christ's sake, even _Thalia_ had a lifesize poster hidden in her closet (away from the rest of the room so as to not taint punk feel of it). Sure he was our age and pretty gorgeous, but I didn't need to know his birthday or his measurements. His music was good enough for me. Last thing I needed was a crush on 17 year old celebrity to worry about.

* * *

It was about 8 o'clock when I got the first phone call from my dad. I turned my ringer off and plopped it down on the passenger's side. It continued to ring for the next 15 minutes non-stop until I finally turned it off. It was better that way anyway then he couldn't track any activity coming from it. I'd been driving since 3 and I was already itching to just close my eyes and sleep. It wasn't even I was physically tired, I just felt drained from my fight with my dad, all these emotions of leaving were stewing inside me and they just left me tired. Tired of processing and thinking, tired of hurting and being mad, and tired of being tired.

I thought back to the days when the three of us were the image of what family should be. I used to never want to leave my parents sight. I guess that all changes when you watch your mom take her last breathes as a police officer peels you away from the wrecked car and your dad tries to find his answers at the bottom of a bottle. We used to have family dinners and talk about our days. I'd tell them how all my classes were going and mom would kiss dad on the cheek when he sometimes had to work late. Way back when "working late" was actually being at the office past 5 and not going to bars and looking for girls.

I didn't feel like sleeping even though I was tired out of my wits. I grabbed a coffee and some gas along the way at a gas station. When I got back into the car I started to see the bags already forming under my eyes. I chugged my coffee, blasted the radio, and prepared to drive the next 3 hours to Los Angeles on Highway 101, then maybe I'd give myself the luxury of sleep. I didn't know exactly where I was going, but I knew it was far away from the life and the city I left behind.

Eventually I stopped in the suburbs of L.A. at about midnight or so. I looked for a place I could park where it wasn't suspicious. I ended up outside a park in a seemingly cozy and wealthy neighborhood. I got myself situated with a blanket and pillow as I kicked back the seat. My eyes closed and I felt the coffee wearing off. It had been a long journey, but I finally made it. I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

A harsh knock on my window is what woke me up. It felt like I'd been asleep for two minutes and I could feel the headache starting. It took me a couple seconds to process the noise.

 _Fuck_ , I thought. They found me. It was over before it even started.


End file.
